


Chätzli

by TheAzureLush



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aftercare, BDSM, Bad german, Chris can't last to save his life, Come Eating, Copious Pampering, Cum Eating, Dom/sub, Domestic Fluff, Emotionally Repressed, Established Relationship, General Domesticity, Hand Jobs, Light Bondage, M/M, No really like there's so much lube, Pet Names, Pictures, Praise Kink, alcohol mention, and other fun fluids, attempted humiliation, drool, light teasing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 06:14:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9222752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAzureLush/pseuds/TheAzureLush
Summary: Christophe Giacometti has grown to love and expect his boyfriend's surprises. Some are more elaborate than others.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Now for the main attraction!
> 
> I'd love to extend a special shoutout to ChocoboStrider, whose concept for Chris's boyfriend, Armand as he is named in this oneshot, is a huge inspiration for me! 
> 
> Please enjoy <3

In any other situation, eager Chris might have been blindfolded. There was a certain aimlessness that he portrayed with his searching movements, his expressions of desperation. But instead, his thick arms were taken and tied snugly behind his back at the middle, and the desperation for touch was deprived for want of movement. There would be no lack of touch, but he didn't know that quite yet.

 _“Halten Sie Ihren Rücken gerade, Chätzli.”_ Instructed a calm voice from behind the figure skater, and his back straightened enough to bend concave, all as if he had been stung hard by a cattle prod. In hopes of halting a particularly strong urge to move from his spot, his knees dug firmly into the carpet. What an eventful date... he hadn't expected this one bit. 

_“Merci.”_

But did Armand ever _really_ allow assumptions to be made about himself?

More often than not, it seemed like he got off solely to breaking down expectations made about him. That much became apparent when they first met in the Zurich club months ago. Then, Chris was convinced that their relationship would be a one-night ordeal, that he was just some pretty, long haired businessman with a decent step and some charm. 

The answer to those doubts was made self-evident when the 'pretty businessman' paced around to Chris's field of vision, and the blond crown of his hair showed itself in a subservient dip. It would be enough to hide the smirk tugging at his lips.

Usually, they would have started getting into the main attraction by now, or at least Chris would have suggested it, but it appeared that the beautiful dom had more gradual plans for the two of them. Armand wasn't about to start their session just yet. Instead, he took step by deliberate step around the room, fetching what would later make themselves known as a lavender massage oil from their play bag, a towel, and something else from the kitchen that he had tucked out of sight under his arm. 

While he dipped out, Chris found himself shifting his weight from one hip to the other, using his muscular thighs for the minimal friction they could provide for his already established erection. It didn't take him long to get riled up, and the bindings were just the trick. Such a short moment of relief was just what he needed, but Armand was back in a moments time, brushing a lock of his coffee coloured hair from his stoic face. He tsked and nudged Chris's cock's head closer to his belly button with the toe of his oxford. While his victim gave a showy groan, Armand knelt before him and uncapped the bottle of massage oil, whose stream was to be positioned over his lover's swelling head. It drenched Chris within seconds, and Armand made sure to carefully pull out and cup his balls, overrun by a thick layer of blond curls, from between his thighs to catch the collateral damage.

Feeling how Armand's hand stuck, and the hair glued itself together with the aid of oil, Chris's noises of acknowledgment shifted closer to deep whining groans. He could feel it drool down the 'v' of his hips and stick uncomfortably between his attractive glutes, eventually dripping thickly onto the carpet below. Knowing the mess wasn't within Chris's jurisdiction, Armand bit the critique from his tongue and replaced it with a towel, draped between the bulging calves offered to him.

_“We can't have any of that, can we? Your landlady will start to wonder why you need the carpets cleaned so much. Isn't that right, kitten?”_

Armand was biding his time, and because of this Chris was well aware something much more intense than a little bit of massage oil was coming, but that hardly mattered when it came to the way he wrapped his hand around his thick shaft and worked it until slick. He was using too much on purpose... did he plan on riding him like this? Chris's cock flexed and jumped from the thought, and Armand raised his shaped eyebrows. Pulling out nicknames so early in the game was unfair....

_“What, do I not get an answer?”_

_“Humm... I think she'd be used to it by now.”_

Cheeky, less than introspective... Armand smiled warmly, deepening the pressure on his cock until his partner gasped. Chris liked to imagine that the subtle praise was for his own lewd wit. In truth, he didn't just like the filth, he lived for it. The acts and noises that made others' faces scrunch up and their stomachs churn thrilled him. It was something that he could do and they couldn't. It turned him on to lose himself in a way that many couldn't, and wouldn't want to. 

With an orbital motion of his hips, Chris made sure to massage the tip of his slippery cock through the pseudo orifice of Armand's strong fingers. In response, he tightened further, held the flushed foreskin in place until it peeled back over his mushrooming head, and watched it bunch up at the tip again. Chris sighed and grunted while the ridge caught itself on Armand's knuckle and pushed free with the help of copious lubricant. The room smelled thick with the scent of lavender and the glowing musk of sex. It was sensuality with a twist.

Though Chris couldn't help but let his mind wander, as thick as it was with the consistent promise of pleasure. Armand still was hiding something under his arm and he was curious about it... or at least when he _could_ manage to be curious in between gasps. Armand's grip was milking him, squeezing from tip to base to tip again. It was like he was trying to get him to cum instead of the usual slow burning tease. 

It was then, to Chris's dismay, that Armand took back his hand.

 _“ **Maan** -dli...!”_ Chris protested, vivid hazel eyes watering from the sudden deprivation. The buildup had been cut off too soon, and if there was one thing he hated, it was to be deprived. The diminished constrictions in his abdomen were hardly welcome.

_“Calm down, kitten. I have a **treat** for you...” _

Armand's hand finally pulled what was tucked away under his arm. To Chris's passive confusion, it wasn't a new toy, or anything all that remarkable. It was a boring saucer, a floral tea saucer with rosy trim to be exact. It was placed delicately about a foot away from his carpet-roughened knees, and left there, as unassuming as could be. Armand rolled his eyes up, and gave the same sweet smile as before which Chris couldn't help but return with matching warmth, but a puzzled expression. His lips pursed together as Armand stood to kneel behind him. The knot of his tie was itchy against his bare spine.

 _“... but I am going to need you to be very obedient. Do you think you can do that for me, kitten? I would hate for this to be difficult on the both of us.”_ Armand's voice was perpetually lulling, tranquil and hypnotic, to such a degree that Chris's high strung mind could focus on every articulated syllable. The satisfaction from _him_ being called such an innocent name was immense.

 _“Mmmhm.”_ Chris hummed with lidded, averted eyes. He was impatient. 

_“Yes or no, please.”_

Chris swallowed his smirk. To think he once thought Armand to be a prude...

_“Yes, I can.”_

_“Excellent. Now relax.”_

On cue, Chris's shoulders fell into a comfortable slump, even as his back was still stock-straight. Long, butterfly eyelashes fluttered closed. Calm. The hand came back to him on a whim, and his plush, kissing lips parted in a gasp unbefitting of his character. This time, the one hand wouldn't be enough. Armand's other had begun to praise and rub at his neglected backside, leading slick trails of a different slick fluid – it felt like proper lube – to prepare him. Every prickling sensation of his own hair, the crimped and delicate skin of his ass, left him wanting. With a groan, he chanced to push backward into the fingers that teased him, enough to breach to the second knuckle. In all honesty, Armand's tolerance of such a needy gesture surprised him, but he enjoyed the crawling that each 'tsk tsk' elicited from his spine.

 _“Any day now, hmm?”_ Chris goaded, only to be met immediately with a hooking finger that pried open enough room for a second. He moaned. That was better. It was easier now to push back further... that is, until Armand stopped and waited for a semblance of good behavior. Guilty! Chris had never been one to wait for what he wanted when it came to the bedroom. It was clear Armand knew this by now, for not long after that, he pressed his trimmed fingers knuckle-deep and curled them, rolled them, and prodded until Chris was visibly squirming.

Too often, Chris assumed himself to be less-than-needy in bed. Armand disagreed. He knew that if he were to record some of the noises he was making now, it would bring a shocked blush to even his face.

What a lovely image Chris was creating. The athlete was picturesque in the way his thighs and buttocks creased and flexed with well-earned muscle. His skin wasn't smooth, but littered with dark sheets of hair on his thighs, between his buttocks, and trailing up his carved abdomen. It had been a while since he had last waxed, but it made sense. When was the last time he had been on the pole? Dancing needed to be pushed aside in lieu of his main passion for skating. Ah well. The hair on his thighs was fine enough to bury one's face in, and Armand might have, had he been in any other role. To see them squeezing and his back tensing so suddenly was fun, more than anything. It would only get worse with his quickening pace. 

_“Are you ready to be polite now, kitten?”_ The older man asked pointedly.

Chris grunted out a hasty 'Ja' in response, hips rolling to the rhythm of the two hands, now working him in tandem. It burned, and he was sure that if Armand felt like it, he would be cumming in just minutes. His gut was building with pressure all too soon. The sensations, mingling with the erotic noises of oil and friction were a fierce collaboration for his already worked-up mind. The rush hit him too quickly to stop, and his eyes flew back open to look down at Armand's fiercely pumping hand, slick with drippy pre. The addicted skater didn't have a chance in the world to free himself from the bindings that would allow him to stop the string of drool that pooled and dribbled from his lips.

The moment Armand felt the telltale signs that his lover was close, he ceased massaging his prostate, and instead pressed the head of his cock to the saucer. Opalesque, it began to pool in one spurt after the next, coating the tip and covering the plate with a generous helping of his own spunk.

_“Beautiful, kitten, you're doing so well.”_

Realization dawned on Chris as he was still spasming, letting loud keening gasps take over his rational mind. Fuck the neighbors, fuck everything that wasn't Armand's hand. Was this even happening? When was the last time he had someone like this, someone who wasn't just a scrambling tumble against the wall, or a last minute fix between the sheets?

For a long moment, he shut his eyes and processed the orgasm that had torn through him, bulging shoulders rising and falling. Premature and rushed, but satisfying all the same, he felt that there was something more to be said about the night. The onslaught of exhaustion was anticipated, and he sat his still drooling butt down on his calves to catch his breath and to quit panting so loudly. 

Armand counted down from fifteen, waiting for Chris's breath to slow. 

When Chris opened his heavy eyes, he was no longer looking at Armand's strong fingers, but at the cum-filled saucer. The smell was strong, not just from the fluid, but his own sweat, the oil, and the biting cologne on Armand's throat. 

No, they weren't done yet.

 _“Well?”_ Armand urged when Chris twisted back to admire his kind, green eyes. The corners were pinching in a quiet smile. “Don't you want your treat?”

 _“Armand!”_ Chris, exhausted and glowing, heard himself gasp before he could stop himself. In one fluid motion, Armand had taken the back of his head and pushed it down until the tip of Chris's pointed nose dragged through the hot, slimy mess. Without his arms to catch himself, Chris relied on his core and only that to keep from completely faceplanting into it. One-eighties like this always surprised him to a degree, but this was sweet Armand. With him, surprises turned to shocks. He could feel the slick fluid rubbing into his nostrils, rolling over his protruding upper lip, and clinging to the peppering of stubble that resided there. He offered a higher-than-usual whine. If he weren't so exhausted, the mere act would ready him for another round. 

_“None of that. Drink up, kitten. En guete.”_ Armand ordered, noticing how long Chris was biding his time. It wasn't a big deal. In fact, he used that time to pace around to the front of the larger man. After their time together, he had grown to realize when Chris was truly uncomfortable, and when he should stop pushing in a scene... but he saw the haze of lust in his tired, post-orgasm eyes. It made the way his tongue lolled out to swipe up a generous dollop of cum all the sweeter. Retrieving his phone from his jacket pocket, Armand snapped a picture of his cupped tongue and needy expression, for the sole purpose of seeing it melt into genuine surprise. 

Surprises, surprises.

The 'treat' was bitter, but Chris was used to it. Its taste made his heart pound, and he swallowed the first tongue full down obediently, despite the way it triggered his stomach to flip. As his dick softened, and he forced himself into somewhat of a second wind, he began laving obscenely at the saucer, being sure to make unwavering eye contact with Armand. His thick dark brows pinched upwards as he swiped around the rip, and traced his nose through a spot where a small pool had gathered. When he pulled up, thick strings drooled down his chin and nostrils.

_“Beautiful job, kitten. It looks like you're enjoying your treat more than I thought, hm?”_

Chris hissed a breath through his teeth and forced down the thick, heady flavour. Armand knew exactly what his smile did, the charming bastard.

 _“Oh **yes** , mein Schätz.”_ He crooned, licking his lips while Armand scooped up the excess from his chin. It was smeared instead across his already wet lower lip, to be swallowed like the rest.

_“Good kitten, just a little more now. You've done so well.”_

Once he caught his breath, Chris was back down to clean up the final traces of his meal, despite there really being nothing left on the plate. Some second wind _that_ was. He was already nodding off into the saucer. It was that time.

A moment of vulnerable silence passed and Chris hung his head. He could be pushed around by one person or the next, but with Armand, each scene had an emotional commitment. His fatigue was real, not an excuse to leave early.

Different. Not bad, different.

 _“Scene?”_ Asked a calm, kind voice, just a nose away from his. 

Chris grinned his mild, close-lipped grin and when he looked up, his distant eyes were beaming.

_“Scene.”_

**Author's Note:**

> I will likely have a second chapter for aftercare, so stay tuned!


End file.
